Ice and Fire
by Silvandar
Summary: Lightborn is a blood elf paladin, Koltira is a Death Knight... some things are not meant to be, just like ice and fire YAOI


Wowfic. I'm not going to say sorry, the idea of this pairing had too many possibilities to ignore.

Don't forget to check out my story list for my anime and manga based smut.

* * *

Andorhal. The battleground in the centre of old Lordaeron, the scene of so much blood and death that the air reeked with it. The last true scourge stronghold in the Western Plaugelands, it sulked along lake Darrowmere, poisoning the waters and staining the sky with its fumes.

I stopped just before the junction and let my horse graze beside the road as I took my first look at the fallen city. Even from this distance I could see smoke rising in the east, the sound of faint battle on the wind. A slight shiver ran through me as I absently patted my stallion's nose. The trained warhorse was used to blood and war, but the stench of the undead made him roll his eyes a little, anxiety quivers running through him. I let my gaze wander over the road, checking for any obvious traps or ambush sites. Satisfied that the road was clear, I rode slowly into the Forsaken camp at the north of the city.

The encampment was the usual Forsaken stench of old death mixed with the acrid chemicals they used to spread their poisons. Huge vats of greenish sludge sat spewing fumes at the corners of the square and the buildings towered above the scurrying troops, huge, dark and perched at unnatural angles. Hulking abominations lurked at the gates and the chains of the bat handler clanked and rattled in the rising evening wind. I gritted my teeth, said a silent prayer to the Light and stabled my horse, reluctantly settling down into the sparse barracks for the night.

Morning came as a grey, watery light through thick clouds. I forced down the cold gruel and weak tea that classed as a Forsaken army breakfast then made my way out into the camp, looking for the commanding officer as I had been ordered when I left the Bulwark four days ago. The search didn't take long.

The blood elf death knight stood alone, surveying the camp. A sickly green sheen played over his armour, cast by the flickering rune-blade over his back. His skin and hair were pure white, his eyes gleaming pale green as he stared out towards the battlefield. An icy chill wrapped around him and leached out into the morning air. He was tall and powerfully built, but all I was really aware of was the boiling rage in my gut at the sight of the undead creature. I bunched my fists and ground my teeth, fighting my instinct to smite him, to throw the full power of the light at the thing in front of me...

"First time seeing a death knight?" growled an alchemist by my shoulder. "They're pretty impressive, even by Forsaken standards."

I took a deep breath and nodded, forcing down the rage and hatred inside me. Enemy of the Light or not, Koltira Deathweaver was my superior here, a member of the Horde regardless of his past deeds as a servant of the Lich King.

"Impressive" I agreed, forcing my feet to move. I strode toward him and saluted, waited for his attention to shift to me and said "Lightborn, Bloodknight of Silvermoon, at your command."

Burning green eyes moved over my face as he considered me. His expression remained blank as he spoke, seemingly oblivious to the effect his twisted, unnatural voice had on me as he issued my orders. My fingers twitched for my sword hilt as he instructed me to go and kill desiccated scourge in Andorhal, my mind screaming to kill the scourge right in front of me. Even the knowledge that he was powerful enough to clean the remains of me from his blade in a fast five seconds could barely restrain me. I managed a stiff salute as he finished speaking and practically raced away towards my unit once dismissed. Every fibre of my being was howling and it was with a savage joy that I threw myself into the scourge forces inside the city. I drew gulps of the light as if the fierce heat inside me could burn away the death knight's chill.

Bloody and exhausted I staggered through the camp, the last of the rear guard of my unit. I had clocked up over fifteen enemy kills, along with several Alliance soldiers that I had seen attacking the Horde troops. Mostly thanks to my skills at healing, I had not lost any men. I barely even noticed the alchemists bemoaning the fact that there were no new body parts to be amputated from my troops. The callous, sometimes monstrous attitude of the Forsaken towards other forms of life had long become commonplace for me, having spent the early years of my military tour in southern Lordaeron, in Silverpine and Hillsbrad. I dragged myself into the barracks and clawed my way out of my heavy mail armour, desperate to wash away the blood and putrification that was soaked through to my skin.

Cleaner and slightly more alert after some food and rest, I went to report to Koltira. He was in the top room of what passed for the inn, his rune-blade leaning against the wall as he leafed through papers and occasionally referred to a map of the city. I waited for him to acknowledge me as I stood there, the cold of his blade making my breath steam and my skin creep. Eventually the death knight looked up from his papers and his burning eyes met mine.

"Your report?" he said, his twisted voice echoing in the vaulted room. He sat motionless as I described my unit's success in the city, and as I subsided he made a cruel little noise in the back of his throat. "You may not act quickly, but at least you do not fail me. Very well. I will have a more important task for you, Lightborn, when the time is right."

I nodded, feeling the chill from his blade seeping into my body. The green flicker from his eyes was almost mesmerizing, despite the hatred in my gut I felt my head growing light. My body shuddered uncontrollably as I felt myself fall forward into the green glimmer and suddenly I was surrounded by icy wind, howling past my ears and wrapping around me. My breath froze in my lungs, my body nerveless and helpless as the wind took on a voice, a terrible furious, hopeless roar. I groaned through frozen lips, teeth grinding together in agony as a sudden boiling heat dug into my shoulders and I was jerked out of the wind.

I fell heavily against metal armour, the grip on my shoulders the only thing keeping me from sprawling on the floor. As my senses slowly returned I realised I was outside the room, hanging from Koltira's grip like a child, tight against him. Groaning, I pulled myself out of his ice cold hands and shook my head in confusion. "Wh... what happened..."

"Do not look too long at death" Koltira intoned, his tone strangely soft and forgiving. "The frozen wastes beyond the veil are not for such young eyes."

He turned away from me and strode back into his room, slamming the door behind him and leaving me staring after him in shock and more than a little fear.

The next few days were an orgy of death. Together with the Forsaken troops I pushed the enemy farther and farther back into the city, cleansing Andorhal slowly but surely. As the scourge retreated under our assault, my reports to Koltira became more detailed; exact troop movements and numbers being relayed to the sombre death knight on an hourly basis. Perhaps because of my constant contact with him, I found myself suffering less and less from the effects of his presence. The incident in the tower was still fresh in my mind though and I burned to ask him about it. The frozen world I had glimpsed in his eyes was a terrible mystery to me, one that I needed to understand. Sleep came less and less easily, bringing nightmares of frozen wastes when it did finally take me over. I grew visibly strained, causing the alchemists to threaten to dose me with potions if I didn't start taking care of myself.

At last, after over a month of almost constant fighting, Koltira sent for me and gave me a heavy briefing package. I quickly flicked through it, then stared at him in shock.

"Darkmaster Gandling? He's here?"

"You seem surprised. After you destroyed Araj the Summoner, there was noone left to command the scourge. Gandling almost had to make an appearance."

"Now you want me to kill him. Me. Go up against one of the Lich King's strongest supporters."

Koltira turned smouldering green eyes on me and took in my physical condition and the dents and scratches on my armour.

"I want you to fight and weaken Gandling. I will join you to help finish him off" he promised, dismissing me with a nod.

My heart felt like lead as I walked my charger out of the compound. Slipping my hand inside my cloak, I touched the thick bindings of my holy book and shivered. I had never felt so far away from the Light as I did at that moment. Gandling was the necromancer who ruled over fabled Scholomance, the school of black arts that haunted the isle in the centre of Darrowmere. Vastly powerful, the thought of going up against him was frightening, even with the aid of a death knight. I shook myself, hard, then pulled myself up into my saddle and gritted my teeth, snapping my helm into place. Gripping my sword hilt, I picked my way through the ruined streets towards the Darkmaster's command post.

The stench of rotting meat and burning flesh hit me as I rounded the tower and saw my target. Wreathed in crackling, violently hued magics, the Darkmaster stood directing the movements of his numberless troops. He was a tall, black robed figure with a horned crest and the taut, unhealthy skin of the scourge just visible above a silk mask. The sheer power that emanated from him was extraordinary, I could feel the black forces crawling against my skin from a block away. Leaving my charger far out of range, I crept forwards and unsheathed my sword.

A bolt of shadowy energy hit me in the chest and I reeled, catching myself against a wall and gasping at the pain. I hadn't realised he had noticed me and wasn't prepared to defend myself. Clenching my teeth, I drew in the Light and surrounded myself with a holy shield, then ran towards the Darkmaster, howling my prayers at him as I raced. Throwing every ounce of strength into the blow, I hurled my shield against his body and he staggered backwards, cursing me in his black speech as his shadow magic bounced off my shield. I could feel that curtain of Light beginning to fail under his assault and I raised my sword, striking at him with savage abandon.

It felt like hours but couldn't have been more than minutes. The ring of sword against staff and the explosions of magic and holy Light were deafening. My arms quickly became numb from raising my sword and my body was wracked with pain, the healing I was casting on myself becoming less and less effective as time went on and exhaustion began to take me. Gandling wasn't faring much better though. When I saw him sag backwards and loose his grip on his staff I crowed, leaping forwards with my sword held high. The expression in his eyes told me of my mistake a second before he struck and I felt a grip like iron around my throat.

With a hollow laugh, the Darkmaster incanted and my vision went purple. I felt my body raised high into the air and the breath seemed to fail in my lungs. Gasping and struggling, I realised I was being held in some kind of shadow prison, unable to move or speak as Gandling began drawing in power to finish me off. I closed my eyes and sent a prayer to the Light, awaiting that final flash of agony.

Then he was there, a gleaming black figure wielding a blade of burning green fire. Pale blue frost crackled over his armour as he launched himself at the Darkmaster, foul spells falling from his lips and crawling across my enemy in a corrosion of decay. Gandling fell back and I realised there were two men fighting him, two death knights battling side by side as they beat the necromancer back. The shorter one was parrying shadow spells with twin blades as Koltira hacked and weaved. As I watched, Koltira turned and fired a spell directly at me and the prison collapsed, dropping me back to the floor.

Gasping for a moment, I watched the two death knights in battle. The sounds of misfired magics and heavy blows drew me back to myself and with a cry, I leaped again into the fight. Between us, Gandling was quickly pressed and overwhelmed. As I saw Koltira prepare to give the final blow, Gandling seemed to blur for a moment and then I saw my blade pass through him, his body suddenly as insubstantial as mist. The death knights fell back and the Darkmaster raised his eyes to us.

"Enough of this" his voice was like a wind from the tomb, the very sound of it made me want to howl in terror. "The Cult of the Damned doesn't need Andorhal" he spat, "This worthless city is yours to fight over." With a final sneer, Gandling shimmered and then disappeared.

The only sounds left were my heavy breathing and the distant sounds of battle from the city around us. The two death knights stood opposite each other, eyeing each other speculatively. Blinking in the acrid smoke that was left from the battle, I realised that the shorter death knight appeared human, an Alliance symbol etched into his fierce black plate armour. He dropped the tips of his twin blades to the ground and then to my astonishment, he smiled.

"Koltira! I had heard rumours that you were here in Lordaeron."

Koltira nodded, his expression softening a little. "You heard correctly, Thassarian. I wanted to give you a chance to kill me again."

The human death knight laughed and shook his head. "It looks like it may have to come to that." "Yes, it may... but not today. With the Scourge out of the way, I plan to pull my troops back and regroup."

The one called Thassarian paused for a moment, thinking. "I see. Then I will do the same. But you must be aware, Koltira: we are brothers no longer. You are a member of the Horde now, and I of the Alliance. Eventually, we will fight this battle for Andorhal, and only one of us can walk off this battlefield victorious." He looked oddly sad at the prospect.

Koltira nodded again. "Yes, I know. And don't think I'll go easy on you." Thassarian laughed and turned to walk away. Pausing, he gave the blood elf death knight an amused look. "Very well. I look forward to it."

We stood and watched the human death knight walk away. My mind was reeling; to distract myself I cast a healing spell, focusing on the Light to quell my confusion. As I finished sealing my wounds, Koltira turned to me. His voice was soft but there was no mistaking the blades in it as he said "you are not to speak to ANYONE about the agreement that was made today, Lightborn. Consider this an order from your direct superior." I stared at him and stammered my consent as he stalked away, brushing aside a few lone scourge attackers like they were paper.

* * *

I took two days to fully recover, most of it asleep in the barracks. Once I was able to walk around without feeling exhausted, I checked on my charger and opened my post, nodding occasionally to the Forsaken troops that milled about. It was apparent that with the defeat of Gandling, the Alliance had pulled out just as the Horde had done. Remembering the conversation between the two commanders, curiosity overcame my apprehension about being around Koltira again and I sought him out.

His office was just as I remembered it, the table covered in maps and books. His huge sword hung on the wall this time though and there was a definite sense of permanence about his quarters. A bedroll indicated that the death knight rested, if not actually slept, something that made him seem a little less monstrous somehow. I approached cautiously and after a moment he looked up.

"Lightborn. I expected you to turn up eventually, but not this soon. Are you recovered?" "Y-yes sir" I said, surprised at the concern in his twisted, echoing voice.  
"I've... I noticed that the battle seems to be over."  
"Temporarily postponed" he corrected, standing up and walking to my side of the desk. Leaning against it, he struck me suddenly as smaller than I remembered. My thoughts spun until I realised that his plate armour was missing, I'd been so distracted by my questions and the changes to his rooms that I hadn't noticed.

"You're... you're not expecting any attacks?" I asked, indicating his black tunic and hose instead of his usual warlike garb. He nodded and said "for now, we will wait. We will attack Thassarian and his troops when the time is right."

"Thassarian" I was going for it now, heart thundering as I pushed at the line between a superior officer and a grunt. Expecting at any moment to be ordered into silence, I plunged on. "You knew him... back there. After Gandling... the two of you..."

Luminous green eyes bored into mine and once again I heard the screaming, frigid winds of the far north. For long moments I was bathed in that icy cold, then Koltira shrugged and the spell was broken. "I suppose you have a right to know who helped save your life. Thassarian is a commander in the Alliance army, as you have seen. But before that... we were brothers."

I listened in growing astonishment as Koltira described the time when he and the human death knight had been joined as part of the Lich King's army. His voice as he spoke was filled with bitterness, recalling a past that was torture to him. As he told me a little of what he and Thassarian had seen and done, I felt the instinctive hatred of the Lich King's servants rise up in me again. Silently I raged, my fists clenching as Koltira spoke casually of murder and butchery, meaningless to him compared to his own pain at the hands of Arthas.

He noticed my fury eventually, of course. Straightening, he fixed those eyes on me. "What would you have done in my place?" he demanded, "with no will of your own?" "I deny you nothing" I spat, aware that I was drawing on the Light almost despite myself, my body flaring with heat and power. "It is not your actions as a slave that I despise. It is your arrogance and self pity as a free man! Or do you think that mourning for those you butchered is somehow beneath you? Like all that matters is your own pain!" I stopped, horrified at myself. To speak to a superior like that... forcing my hatred down, I lowered my head and silently awaited my punishment. When his voice came, it sounded very far away to my numb, shocked ears.

"You throb with the Light, your anger at me makes you burn like fire" he murmured and I looked up, confusion and fear filling me. With a burst of chill, I felt Koltira grip my shoulders and I closed my eyes, expecting to be thrown from the room or physically punished for my outburst.

An icy touch made my eyes snap open, the frozen lips of my superior pressing against my own. Fighting off panic, I pulled away from him and stared at him in horror, unable to process what had just happened. His grip on my shoulders grew tighter and he stared down at me, those endless green eyes threatening to engulf me once more. Shuddering, I closed my eyes to block his gaze and felt him kiss me again, more insistently this time. As his ice cold lips caressed mine, I realised with a shock that the death knight's embrace was far from freezing my flesh... in fact, he was having the directly opposite effect on me. Heat was flooding my body at his frozen touch, the blood pounding through my face. As I clenched my fingers in his clothing and tried to will myself away from him, that pounding grew more insistent and travelled lower.

Ashamed beyond measure at my physical reactions to this corrupted, unholy being, I forced myself away from him, staggering back against the bookshelf. Panting a little, I wiped my hand across my lips as if to brush away the taste of him, shaking my head. "No... no... stay a-away from me" I muttered, unable to meet his eyes. That green glare would capture me again and I would be lost. "M-monster..."

"Monster?" His voice, echoing and twisted as it was, sounded strangely soft and playful. I trembled as I backed away from him, trying to feel my way to the door without making it obvious that I was bolting from my superior officer. He moved fast though, blocking my exit and pressing me back against the bookshelf, caging me in place with his arms and leaning in close.

"Am I a monster to want to share in your warmth, your fire?" he demanded, his breath sweet on my lips. Groaning a little as my body responded again to his closeness, I tried to push away from him. All that my effort achieved was my hands resting on his chest and I was amazed to feel the hard muscle underneath his tunic, the chill from his flesh muted a little by the cloth.

"I a-am a servant of the Light. I am a sword against the darkness. I am a blade against the shadow" I panted, seeking refuge in prayer even as my traitorous fingers traced his collarbone and ran over his muscles, seeming to have their own agenda quite separate from my mind.

He laughed, a hollow chuckle that I felt against my cheek as he moved his lips to my throat, kissing icicles into my veins and making my head spin. "Your prayers are rhetoric, uttered to protect you from your desires" he said and I groaned aloud as his cold fingers slid down my body, circling the bulge in my hose like an accusation. "Fire and ice, two elements that are forever at odds, nevertheless drawn to each other in the eternal dance of lust" he purred, his hand beginning to move on me slowly as he captured my lips again.

The ice of his kiss and his moving, sinful fingers met the heat in my body and my soul, leaving us both shivering and moaning as I lost the will to fight him. The lust he stroked into me with each touch burned away my hatred for him and I pushed him back, not to flee but to dominate, forcing him onto his back on his desk. Gasping as he pleasured me, I sat astride him and sank my fingers into his mass of white locks, my tongue forcing its way into his mouth and exploring him just as he explored me with his hands. I heard a crash as he kicked the door shut and then he dragged my hose off, his nails raking down my thighs as he switched our positions on the heavy oak desk.

Ice entered me and I screamed, my back arching off the desk as he penetrated me, not bothering with preparation or lotion. The pain was numbed instantly by the chill of his flesh but the pressure remained as he drew me back against his hips, moving deeper into me with a slow, measured pace. I groaned and wrapped my legs around his waist, grabbing a handful of his hair and finding his lips with my own. He devoured me hungrily, ice in my mouth and deep inside my body at the same time, hammering into me in a rhythm that made me ache and moan helplessly.

Pleasure broke through me in waves as he hilted himself and I screamed again, clinging to him and sinking my teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder. He laughed, running his tongue up the sensitive length of my ear, his hips moving faster as he thrust into me. "More... ahhh... deeper!" I cried, my pleas lost in my gasps and moans as he obeyed and the white heat of orgasm began building in my gut.

He sensed I was close, his motion becoming harder and more erratic as my body quickened his own pleasure. Using my leverage on his waist, I pulled him in as deep as I could then locked my ankles, preventing him from withdrawing as my orgasm unleashed, knowing that the pressure inside me would drive him over the edge. The room rang as I vocalised my pleasure, arching against him and feeling him bury his face in my shoulder. As his hollow, unearthly cries filled my ears I felt like I was drowning, the desire in me igniting once again at the sound of his climax. Heat flooded me and I kissed him, trapping those sinful moans with my lips and milking his body with my own.

We collapsed against the desk, both gasping and shuddering as we recovered from the sensations we had produced in each other. For long moments he lay against me like a dead thing, then he stirred and moved away, pulling his clothes back on. I felt the chill coming from him again as he distanced himself from me and I shivered, the rejection painful after our closeness. Growling slightly, unused to being used and then thrown away, I grabbed hold of his arm, trying to drag him back to me.

I had of course forgotten his enormous strength; I ended up pulling myself off the desk and onto the floor, stumbling against him as his body simply refused to move. He looked down at me in astonishment and I coloured a little, aware suddenly that I was half naked and unclean. As he looked down at me there was a flicker in his eyes; my body still inflamed him, even though he was determined to reject me now he had taken his pleasure from me. Enraged suddenly, I stood up proudly in front of him and stripped off my tunic, removing the last bits of my clothing and throwing them onto the floor.

"Paladin..." he protested and I gagged him with a kiss, wrapping my nakedness around him. He resisted, his hands going to my hips to push me away from him. I locked my arms around his neck and sank my tongue into his mouth, gripping one of his long ears and tugging his head back so I could kiss him harder and deeper. I knew now that his body was as sensitive as mine, that the chill in his flesh was only skin deep and that my desire could heat him as much or more than it did me, if only I could ignite him.

I moaned his name into our kiss and felt his grip relent, felt him stiffen for a second and then give in to me. His grip shifted and he pulled me harder to him, his knee slipping between my thighs and his back hitting the wall. With a smirk, I tightened my grip on his neck and drew myself up so I was sitting on his hips, supporting my weight on his thighs as he groaned and stripped himself of his clothing again. Certain of my victory as he entered me once more, I felt his chilled fingers seek out my arousal in a touch I knew I would never stop wanting. Ice and Fire moved together as he gave himself to me and I claimed him, forever.


End file.
